


Presents

by edibleflowers



Category: Popslash
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-17
Updated: 2012-09-17
Packaged: 2017-11-14 11:24:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/514723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/edibleflowers/pseuds/edibleflowers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Joey forgets what happened on Justin's birthday.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Presents

**Author's Note:**

> For Dacey, in response to her challenge about Justin's birthday. I probably didn't meet the criteria, and if that's the case, I apologize. Many thanks go to Velma for reading it over for me.

At Joey's twenty-fifth birthday party, Justin poured himself into Joey's lap and kissed him, giggling drunkenly. Joey went with it, since Justin was at that stage of happy inebriation where it was easiest to simply humor him. After the sloppy, wet kiss, Justin slithered to the floor, a blissful smile on his face, and rested his head on Joey's knees. Chuckling, Joey petted Justin's head.

It was rather like having a large dog curled up at his feet. Joey was reminded of a greyhound a friend of his owned: the dog thought it was lap-sized, and frequently tried to climb across anyone's thighs the moment they seated themselves. When denied, it sat and leaned against your legs, heavy and warm and solid despite the apparent frailty of its limbs, and gave you mournful looks with sad, reproachful eyes. Looking down at Justin, Joey was amused at the comparison.

* * *

The next day, he woke late. Groggy and heavy-headed, he moved slowly, pausing when his hand brushed against bare skin. He didn't remember going to bed last night; he'd been matching whiskey shots with Chris, something he should have known better than to attempt, and everything after that was a blank. Joey didn't often get that drunk, and he highly disliked the idea that he'd slept with someone in that state.

Wiping at his bleary eyes, he shifted, then relaxed as he took in the sight of the person laying next to him. Justin was sprawled in the sheets, stripped to his boxers; his face, pressed into the pillow, was marked with wrinkled from the rumpled covers, and his mouth was open, casting an endearingly young aspect over him. _He must have helped me to bed_ , Joey thought, relieved, and got up, tugging the comforter over Justin's shoulders before heading towards the bathroom.

He was at the stove, scrambling eggs, when sleek arms slid around him, a full warmth covered his back, and Justin's husky voice breathed "Good morning" in his ear.

"Morning," Joey replied, puzzled. "Uhh, J?"

"Yeah?" Justin nuzzled at Joey's ear with seeking lips, and Joey shivered a little. Then Justin's stubbled chin settled on Joey's shoulder, and big hands linked on Joey's stomach.

"What are you doing?" Not that Joey minded, exactly; but there was a definite difference between their usual, comfortable physical closeness and the way Justin's hips seemed to be slowly grinding into his ass.

"What do you mean?" Justin asked, sounding genuinely puzzled, and Joey bit his lip because the softness tapping his buttocks was starting to become hardness.

Warily, Joey eyed Justin, one eyebrow raised. "J. Go on, sit down. I'll make your eggs the way you like 'em -- you don't have to supervise."

"Jeez, all I wanted was a good-morning kiss." Justin grumped off to slouch in a chair.

Joey looked at him, now thoroughly puzzled. Justin had hunched over the table, fiddling with a pacifier left there by Kelly. "'The fuck, J? I appreciate you puttin' me to bed last night, but I'm sorry if I did something to piss you off."

"You don't remember, do you?" Justin said glumly, staring at the flower arrangement at the table's center.

"Remember what?" Joey leaned over and shut off the burner, moving the pan off the heat.

"Last night."

Joey narrowed his eyes, trying to wade through his foggy memories of the party. "I remember you sitting on my lap and kissing me." Justin's face darkened; Joey felt lost. The whiskey shots were the last thing he could clearly recall. "What, J? Come on, man. I was wasted."

"We fucked." Justin's head swung. Joey saw the smudge of shadow underlining his glistening eyes. He took a step back, groping at the counter; the floor lurched beneath his feet. "We fucked, Joey. I can't believe -- you don't--" Justin sucked in a harsh breath and stood, pushing his chair back. It scraped loudly on the tile floor.

"You said you wanted me. I let you touch me. I let you suck my cock and put your dick in me, I fucking begged for it and you don't remember."

Joey shook his head. The smell of the eggs was beginning to nauseate him. "J," he said.

"I have to go." Justin stumbled out of the kitchen. Joey sat down at the table and listened, monitoring, dully, Justin's progress: his hastened steps upstairs, where he presumably dressed, and then the footsteps that made their way back downstairs and outside. When the sound of the Benz's engine had faded to silence, Joey put his head down on his arms.

* * *

An hour later, the phone rang. Joey didn't have the energy to move, so he sat and listened to Chris rant on his machine about "breaking Justin's fucking heart, you fucking piece of shit," and thought about moving to Fiji. He thought it might be nice this time of year.

Later, Chris called back and apologized for being so harsh. "Pick up the phone, Joey, come on," he begged, and finally Joey hooked a hand over the arm of the couch on which he'd sprawled -- the kitchen table had become just a little too uncomfortable -- and grabbed the receiver.

"Hey," he croaked, coughing.

"Man, it's about time you picked up. You must get some sick thrill out of listening to me debase myself. Listen, I'm sorry about before. J was kinda hysterical when he came over, umm, so--"

"How is he?" Joey asked.

"He's OK now, I guess. He's upstairs playin' PlayStation. Did you, uh, really--?" Chris's voice was a mixture of wonder and apprehension, and Joey felt his stomach go weightless. Chris's feelings for Justin were well-known, if forever unspoken, and Joey could only imagine what he had to be dealing with right now.

"I don't." Joey closed his eyes and tried to breathe. "I keep trying to remember, I swear, but everything that happened last night is gone, after we finished off the whiskey. He says-- If he says so, I guess we must have. I'm sorry, Chris. Really."

"No, no, it's OK. He seems pretty sure of it, though."

"I know," Joey said grimly. "And I feel like shit, man, believe me. I just -- I can't believe I'd do that, no matter how drunk I was."

"Remind me to tell you about Germany sometime," Chris muttered, but went on before Joey could question him: "Anyway, J thought it was, like, true love or something, so. You're gonna have to talk to him."

"Yeah," Joey mumbled. "I will."

"You want to come over here? Neutral territory and all that. I can make myself scarce."

"That's all right."

"Well, you gotta talk to him before his birthday." Joey muttered an agreement that he would, then hung up and sank back down into the couch, idly wondering why he was being expected to talk to Justin, instead of the other way around. It felt like false accusation; after all, he wasn't the one who'd assaulted a drunk guy and had sex with him. Or something. Joey was starting to wonder if they'd even had sex. Either that, or it was possible he'd had more drunken encounters that he couldn't recall. Now there was an unwelcome thought. Maybe he should quit drinking.

* * *

Sometime the next day, Lance stopped by with take-out from their favorite Mexican restaurant and made Joey eat. He hadn't been hungry, but after he ate, he felt better, and thanked Lance.

"No problem," Lance said. "How are you doing? Still got the hangover from hell?"

"It's pretty much gone," Joey admitted. "But-- Lance, how late were you here, the other night?"

"Laura and I left when everything was over. We were, like, two of the last to leave. Why?" Lance asked, clearly puzzled.

"Umm." Joey rubbed his forehead, hunching over. "Justin-- I woke up this morning and he was asleep next to me, so I thought he, like, helped me to bed. I don't remember anything after Chris and I did those shots," he added, as a disclaimer. "And then. J says that we had sex."

"So that's what Chris was talking about," Lance said, and Joey groaned. He should have known it would make the rounds. "Did you?"

"That's the thing, I don't remember." With a sigh, Joey laid back down on the couch. "He was so upset. I don't know, man. Do you remember, like, him taking me upstairs or anything?"

Lance sat back, his eyes dark with recollection. "The only thing I remember is. Well, I remember when he kissed you--"

"I remember that, too." Joey liked that memory. It had been happy and lighthearted. Justin had been hilariously drunk. He wanted to hug that memory.

"I think you finally said you were gonna pass out, and Justin..." Lance tapped a finger against his chin. Joey was reminded of his 'Millionaire' appearance, for some absurd reason. "J said he'd take care of you. He helped you upstairs. I offered to help, but he said he had you, so, you know. I made sure everyone was on their way and stuff."

"Thanks," Joey said, feeling belatedly guilty. "And thanks, you know, for the party and everything. It was great."

"Sure, man. Not every day you turn twenty-five, after all."

* * *

Lance left, and Joey finally decided he'd better face up to things. He put on some real clothes, grabbed his keys, and checked himself in a mirror to make sure he was presentable before heading over to Justin's house.

As he'd half-hoped, half-dreaded, the lights were on, and the Benz sat quiet in the open garage. Joey sucked in a breath as he parked, trying to get his courage up. He felt that attempting normalcy would be the best course of action at this point, so he got out of the car and headed in through the garage as per usual procedure. "J!" he called as he came into the kitchen.

Hearing noise from the den, he wandered in that direction. He wasn't greatly surprised to see Justin sprawled on the couch, watching basketball highlights on ESPN. "J," he said again, and Justin rolled his head, giving Joey an unreadable look.

"Hey, man."

Feeling a bit lost, Joey sat down in the recliner. "Umm, how are you doing?"

"Fine," Justin said, staring at the television.

"Do you--" Joey wiped at his brow. "About--"

"Never mind." Justin didn't move or seem to react at all. "Sorry I bugged you."

"No, J. If-- I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you."

Justin remained focused on the show as he replied, "Nah, man, it's cool. Really, Joe, I'm fine."

"Are you sure?" Joey didn't know how to react now. Justin wasn't giving him any cues, and the tone of his voice was unreadable. "I mean, I wish I could remember it, you know? It's not something-- I mean, shit. It's not an everyday thing..."

"I get it," Justin said. "You don't remember, it's fine. It's not a big deal or anything."

"Maybe I want to remember," Joey said. Justin turned his head, then, his eyes dark and curious.

"It was really nice," he said quietly. "You were. I mean, you were really considerate, and you took your time and everything. And then-- It was really hot." He swallowed, shifting on the couch. "You told me that you knew I'd wanted you."

Joey sat back in the recliner, absorbing this information. He felt a little like he'd been hit in the stomach: he didn't think he'd ever been aware that Justin was interested in him, but then again, he was known to make drunk declarations from time to time. "I'm sorry, J," he said finally. "I wish I could remember. I mean. That's not the sort of thing I'd want to forget."

"Yeah, well." Justin looked back at the TV. "Whatever."

He didn't know what to do. He thought about getting up and going over to Justin, doing something. Hugging him, maybe. Joey was best at physical comfort: it was the way he'd been raised, and for him, a hug was the same as soothing words. He couldn't tell what Justin needed, though.

"I-- I'm glad you enjoyed it," he said finally.

"Look, do we have to keep talking about this?" Justin said in an utterly bored tone.

Joey felt his hackles rise. "Fine," he said. "I thought you might want to. I'm sorry I fucked it up, J." He stood up, heading for the garage door. Part of him hoped Justin would stop him; part of him, perversely, hoped he wouldn't.

He was starting the car when Justin appeared in the garage, barefoot, blinking. Joey squinted at him, unable to see, in the darkness, what expression might be on Justin's face.

"You don't. You don't have to leave," Justin said. His voice was soft; Joey recognized the tone. Justin was a master when it came to getting his way, whether he realized it or not, and this tone, gentle and endearing, was one of his most persuasive tools. Despite himself, Joey felt something twist inside.

"I don't know, J," he said.

Justin came up next to the car, his hands resting lightly on the open window. "Please stay," he murmured, and Joey didn't bother fighting it after that.

* * *

This time it was slow, all whispered words and gentle touches. When Justin pushed him back to the mattress, a bony knee on either side of his hips, Joey remembered, like a flash, how Justin's skin had gleamed in the moonlight, the tattoo on his shoulder dark and blurred to intoxicated vision. Now it was clear, and he drew a wondering finger over the smooth skin.

"Close your eyes," Justin murmured. Joey obeyed, and his skin prickled where Justin's hand moved over it, mapping, indexing flushed skin with lightly callused fingertips. His hand had come to rest on Justin's hip, and his thumb traced slow circles there while Justin explored him.

"It was so quick, before," he said, after a while.

Joey gave a snort. "I'm not surprised. I was drunk off my ass."

"But it was good," Justin hastened to add, and, hearing the nervousness in his voice, Joey rubbed his thigh, making the caress a reassuring one.

"J," he said. "If you're nervous, we can take it slow."

"I'm not nervous," Justin said, and, as if to prove it, slid a hot hand over Joey's cock. Already hard, it seemed to thicken under Justin's touch, and Joey made a keening noise. "God," he heard Justin breathe. The mattress creaked a little as Justin shifted, and then moist heat covered Joey's dick and he forgot how to breathe.

At one point, the rational thought struggled to the surface that Justin had obviously had practice with blowjobs. The rest of his mind didn't much care how or where Justin had learned, though, as long as he didn't stop that heavenly thing he was doing with his tongue. When he did stop, Joey let out a strangled cry, but,

"I want to, to make love to you," Justin mumbled, and Joey chuckled. Justin was flushed, thoroughly beautiful and a little shy even with his puffy lips, perhaps a little embarrassed by his phrasing. Joey nodded, caressing a shoulder, and murmured, "Do you have--?"

Nodding, Justin got off the bed, stumbling into the bathroom. Joey could hear the faint curse as his erection slapped his belly, and grinned, his fingers slipping to his own cock: fully hard, now, almost painfully erect, the head purple and glistening in the darkness.

Justin returned a few moments later, a strip of condoms and a tube of KY clutched in one hand. Joey reached for him, and they spent a few moments laying beside each other, hearts pounding, hands touching. Joey felt kind of unbearably tender towards Justin; he wanted now to make this experience a good one for him. Whether or not they did it again, that didn't really matter right then.

When Justin moved over Joey again, a knee between Joey's spread thighs, Joey squirted the lubricant onto Justin's fingers, guided his hand to the shadowed flesh. Justin's eyes were closed; Joey thought of a blind person, exploring by feel, and he encouraged Justin with soft words, with gasps of pleasure. Two fingers, and Justin grew confident, laughing at Joey's exuberant cry when his fingertips found Joey's prostate.

Joey had gone red-faced by the time he pulled at Justin's shoulders, panting: "Please, J." Justin leaned over him, then, kissing him and reaching for a condom at the same time, and the last shreds of nervousness were gone by the time he had his cock lined up between Joey's buttocks.

They gasped in unison at the first long, slow stroke, and Justin shook above Joey, his skin glistening with sweat. "It's OK, baby," Joey urged; Justin closed his eyes, pulling back, and the next thrust came smooth and sweet and Joey thought he'd never felt anything quite like it. His hand covered his own cock once more, moving in time to the careful thrusts.

"Faster," he found himself breathing, at some point later on, swimming up from the dizzying rhythm. He smiled up at Justin, licking dry lips, and Justin's pace obligingly sped. "Oh, fuck, fuck," Joey groaned: the constant stimulation of his prostate, now, combined with the feeling of Justin's body against him; it was all building too quickly, and he wanted it to last, didn't want this to ever end, but then it hit and he was helpless in the force of his orgasm.

Justin sank into his arms a few moments later, gasping for air, and they laid in the cooling silence for some time, Joey's hand making long slow strokes up and down Justin's spine. After a while, he said, softly, "You OK?"

"So much better than OK," Justin replied in a dreamy voice, and Joey chuckled.

"Want to sleep," he muttered.

"All right." Justin pushed himself up. "I'll go get a washcloth -- be right back." He paused to strip off the condom, tossing it in the wastebasket as he left. A few moments later, he returned, sitting down on the bed to clean Joey's torso. Joey made a soft noise of contentment and turned his head, glancing negligently at the clock. A smile quirked his mouth as he saw the display.

"What?" Justin asked.

"Happy birthday," Joey said. He took the washcloth from Justin's unresisting hand and tossed it aside, pulling Justin back into bed with him.

"Best birthday present I ever got," Justin whispered.

"So you're not mad anymore? About...?" Joey made an inelegant hand gesture, but Justin seemed to understand. He shook his head against Joey's shoulder.

"I kind of wish I hadn't. You know. I wish I'd waited 'til you were sober, or. But I wanted you so bad."

Joey pressed a kiss to Justin's temple. "It's all right, J. Anyway, even if I don't remember it, I think it was my best birthday present, too."

"Really?" Justin looked up at him, wide-eyed, and Joey grinned down at him.

"Sure. It isn't every day you get a boyfriend for your birthday, after all."


End file.
